The Right Thing
by Paper Pearls
Summary: Shortly after her training is complete, Tonks is sent on her first mission with the aurors. Moody assigns her to Dawlish to ensure that she remains safe, but things don't go as planned. For either Tonks or Moody. A sort of pre-romance one-shot.


**This is my response to the Hogwarts Online September 27****th**** prompt. It is dedicated to **_**Schermionie **_**for her hard work as a judge. It's a sort of pre-romance, I suppose. For the record, Dawlish is indeed called John – JKR said so in an interview.**

**OoOoO**

It was a raid just like any other – why should it be any different? Alastor Moody had survived such exercises countless times; in fact he had a knack for them, which was why he was unofficially responsible for overseeing them. The first time a comrade of his had died, Alastor had been shaken. It had left him cold and anxious. During the considerable length of his career, the fear of losing one of his compatriots had not lessened. He did not fall into the trap of becoming disconnected from the often harsh realities of what it truly meant to be an auror as his own career advanced. Faces changed, but he never forgot them: never.

Alastor pushed open his office door and limped between the veritable labyrinth of desks, ignoring the facile greetings of his colleagues – he had more important things to attend to. The cluster of aurors fell silent as they caught sight of him, and Alastor found their respect gratifying. He didn't know that he deserved it – in fact, he would rather that it was directed towards those who had given their lives in service – but it pleased him nevertheless.

He briefed them all, ensuring that the goal of their mission (to track down a group of suspected Death Eaters and follow them to an underground meeting) would be fresh in their minds. As Alastor spoke, he scanned the group assembled before him. The newest of their recruits was cross-legged on a desk, alert and sitting in an unnaturally upright position despite her location. He couldn't help but look twice as he caught sight of her hair, a yellow that sought to outshine the sun. It certainly hadn't been that colour the last time he had seen her, or during any of the times he had overseen her training.

"... And finally, the lot of you had better remain vigilant." He nodded to himself and refrained from commenting on the way a couple of cocksure newly qualified aurors rolled their eyes. In his day, it wouldn't have happened. "You there, the girl with the hair – Nymphadora?"

Her face lit up with excitement, disbelief quickly replaced by a broad grin. She hopped from the desk, accidentally knocking the folders on the surface flying as her palm skimmed across them. She flushed as someone sniggered, doing her best to collect the sheets parchment as quickly as possible. Her hair had turned a subtle, mousy brown.

"Sorry sir." She bit her lip. "You meant me?"

"Yes _you_." Moody beckoned her closer, suppressing an irritated sigh when he noticed that she was literally bouncing with excitement. "You're a metamorphmagus, aren't you?"

"Er... yes, sir." She nodded. Alastor checked over the files of all applicants, but he didn't want to unsettle her.

"Useful skill, that – in the right hands." Alastor frowned. The extent of the damage the girl could do if she turned on the department was not small. She squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. Not by any stretch of imagination. Potentially, she was the ideal assassin for the Minister.

"Sir? I prefer Tonks." She gave a nervous smile.

"What?" He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the idea that Tonks would turn rogue.

"Tonks, sir. It's my name."

"I know _that_..." Moody faltered for a moment, wondering why the girl's assumption that he didn't know her name unsettled him. Most likely, because he liked others to have faith in the absurd idea that he knew everything. "And for Merlin's sake, drop the 'sir' business – you're not in Hogwarts now."

"Yes, si- er..." Tonks gave a small cough, most likely because she didn't know how to address him. She was rather delicate to look at, no matter how she styled herself, but her slight build had no bearing upon the strength of her spells.

"Well, can you control it?" He gestured towards her hair.

"Of course." She nodded again, and he was reminded of an excitable puppy. To her credit, the same level of enthusiasm had been demonstrated ever since her recruitment. Alastor found it refreshing, in a way. Most lost it quickly.

"Good. Now, you're going to do me a favour." He pushed through the aurors assembled until he found John Dawlish, a skilled yet complacent auror. There was nothing like being responsibly for a baby-face new recruit for reminding such cases what was at stake, should they let down their team. Also, it would keep her safe. Moody liked efficiency. "Dawlish, you're responsible for Nymphadora Tonks here. She can handle herself pretty well, but even so, I want you to keep an eye on her. You hear?"

"Yeah, alright." Dawlish shook hands with his charge whilst Moody looked on with approval. "John Dawlish is the name. You stick with me and you'll be just fine."

Tonks' eyebrows rose slightly in disbelief, and Moody found himself forgiving the girl her upbeat attitude. She would certainly give Dawlish a run for his money, an added bonus.

"Exchange pleasantries in your own time – get going." He gestured towards the fireplaces that lined the wall. Immediately they headed towards the shortest line and merged into the queue. Moody watched until the team of aurors had left.

Next came the waiting – it was his least favourite part. Most of the remaining aurors knew better than to disturb him until their co-workers had returned. Not, however, all of them. Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting for Moody outside of his office.

"Good evening, Alastor." His expression didn't change as Moody limped past him into his Spartan office.

"I bloody well hope it is." Moody fell heavily into his leather chair, the one luxury he allowed himself. He regarded the papers on his desk, each bearing the signature of various Ministry officials, thoughtfully. It was all irrelevant to solving crimes and keeping people safe, as far as Moody was concerned."Incendio."

He wasn't in the mood for bureaucracy, not that he ever was. Kingsley watched impassively as the parchment burned and took the chair opposite Moody's without being invited to. Over the years, Moody had come to accept that Kingsley's presence was less invasive than most, and he wasn't the worst distraction to have around, although he would sooner have been tortured than admit it.

"An effective approach, if a little drastic." In a surprisingly graceful movement, he brushed the ash from his lap. "I heard that it was Miss Tonks' first night on duty."

"Yes." Moody rifled through the drawers of his desk, searching for a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He was willing to settle for an older edition, the way things stood. "Recruitment isn't what it used to be – largely thanks to _him_ – but she's definitely got potential..."

"I agree; she has promise. Will you take her under your wing?" Kingsley spoke with a casual and conversational tone, but still Moody couldn't suppress his irritation.

"I'm getting too old for this nonsense." Reaching into the pocket of his robes, Moody withdrew his hipflask and unscrewed the top. He held it out in a silent offer and was secretly relieved when Kingsley shook his head. It was going to be a long night and Moody could use a stiff drink.

"Really?" With an underlying scepticism snaking its way into his voice, Kingsley leant back and folded his long fingers into a steeple. Moody grunted in response. They both knew that only death would take him from the department. "The girl has a lot to learn, and I think she'd make a receptive pupil."

"Then why don't you teach her yourself?" There was no real enthusiasm behind the suggestion. Moody huffed. Undeniably, Kingsley would make an excellent teacher. But was he the right teacher for Tonks?

Moody wondered how Tonks was progressing. No doubt they would have tracked down those attending the meeting. The fighting may well have started – Moody hoped that she would remember to keep her eyes on her opponent as well as her surroundings, as Tonks often allowed her clumsy tendencies to break her focus – her greatest weakness in a fight.

**OoOoO**

"Mad Eye?" Hestia Jones stood in the doorway rather hesitantly, as though afraid of provoking his ire. He looked up from the various news clippings covering his desk. "They're back now."

Moody stood too quickly and grasped the edge of the desk to steady himself. He really did loathe the leg they'd given him...

"Thanks." He spoke shortly, but not unkindly. Hestia was always to be relied upon, and he knew that she understood his gratitude despite his difficulty displaying it. By the time she replied, Moody was already halfway along the corridor, his gait speedy despite being uneven. The steady pounding of wood against wood sent the various personnel scurrying in the opposite direction. As he entered the heart of the department, there was a noticeable increase in the rate of activity.

"Ah, Alastor-" Kingsley left his workstation and joined him.

"Fatalities?"

"None."

Moody breathed a sigh of relief. She was- they were all fine.

"Anyone hurt?"

"A couple; Proudfoot's got a broken arm and Tonks-" Kingsley continued looking straight ahead as they walked, ignoring the way Moody's eyes (magical and natural) fixed on him. "Tonks sustained a burn."

"What?" Moody growled in his throat.

"A minor burn."

He pushed through the crowd of newly returned aurors discussing their mission until he reached the desk that belonged to Tonks. Moody was sorely tempted to hunt down Dawlish and give him a few burns of his own – he had put the girl in Dawlish's care, for the love of Merlin – but checking up on the latest addition to the team was his first priority.

She was sitting in her cubicle, her injured arm held out in an unnatural position. What was left of her sleeve had been rolled up to reveal a horribly pink layer of skin stretching from her wrist to her elbow. There was a slight grimace on her face, and her hair was a nauseous green.

"Tonks." When she looked up at him Moody saw tears of pain in her eyes. "How did it go?"

Tonks averted her gaze. The general chatter in the office seemed to grow louder.

"I messed up, sir. I messed up." She looked so disheartened that Moody couldn't help but feel for her. He was about to respond when Dawlish appeared at the end of the cubicle, slightly dishevelled, a tub of burn cream in his hand. He smelled like smoke and one of his eyebrows looked singed.

"Here you go, Tonks; this ought to make you feel better." Dawlish searched the cluttered surface of her desk for an empty space. There were folders, files and news clippings along with several empty coffee cups. Her walls, Moody noted, were covered in pictures and post cards of people he didn't recognise.

"So you took care of her, eh Dawlish?" Moody noted with pride that the auror cringed.

"I did my best, yes." He rubbed his chin, rough with stubble.

"That's all good and well, but I didn't ask if you did your best – I asked if you looked after Tonks." Moody placed a hand on Dawlish's back and propelled him firmly from the cubicle. "Off you go, son; on your way."

Turning before Dawlish had time to react, Moody limped back across to Tonks.

"I'm sorry, sir." Still she would not meet his gaze. With a flick of his wand, Moody conjured a chair for himself and sat down beside her. "I'm really, really sorry."

"You're new here, so I'm going to remind you of something; aurors are supposed to remember things. Less than three hours ago I told you to drop the 'sir' and I'd stop calling you _Nymphadora_." He lifted the tub from the desk and dipped his fingers into the sticky gel. He reached out and began to apply it gingerly. The physical contact with Tonks, however practical, made him slightly uncomfortable. Clearly Tonks didn't share his objections, because she scooted closer so that she was all but leaning against him.

"Alright, sir." He could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Are you having a laugh?" He snorted, continuing to apply the cream. "So, tell me from the beginning – what happened?"

Moody listened carefully as Tonks outlined the operation. Everything had gone smoothly until the group had stepped in on the meeting. The Death Eater revivalists had known about them and led the aurors into a trap. Then, all plans had been thrown from the window save for escape. The aurors had been separated and in the absence of Dawlish, Tonks had been burned before she could disapparate.

Technically, Dawlish had done nothing wrong.

Technically, neither had he by putting Tonks in someone else's care.

However, sensible thoughts did nothing to get rid of the guilt snaking through Moody's mind.

"Sounds like you did a good job – you acted like a professional." He screwed the top back onto the tub and set it down by her desk tidy.

"Yeah?" Tonks turned to him, her smile broadening. Her hair had reverted to the bright pink that Moody was accustomed to seeing.

"Yeah. I want to see you in my office at seven sharp tomorrow morning. If you run late then don't bother showing up at all." He stood and ignored the bubbly gush of thanks that flowed from her mouth. "Until then, Tonks."

"Bye..."

He walked back through the office and scowled when he caught sight of Kingsley's knowing look.

"Back to work, Shaklebolt." He rolled his eyes, but it was impossible to be too irritable – total survival was a rare and precious gift. And Tonks wasn't by any means the worst thing that could have happened to him. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


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